


Simon Snow and the Spelling Bee

by capolleon



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Agatha and Baz are in cahoots, F/M, M/M, Magic Competitions, Penelope knows the gay before gay happens, Slow Romance, Spelling Bees oooooh, Timed before Carry On, Wandless Magic, agatha and baz are seriously in cahoots, but not exactly canon compliant, but the year is unknown, could potentially be fifth or sixth year if that is needed, how is he even the chosen one at this point, simon needs to stop failing classes, so before their last year, the gays need to take their time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capolleon/pseuds/capolleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon has to do everything in his power to make sure Baz does <em>not</em> win the Spelling Bee. Of course, Simon has to actually be <em> good</em> at his spells. </p><p>Damn it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. SIMON

**Author's Note:**

> And so, this is the start of something that's going to be terrible. 
> 
> Oh well.

**1//SIMON**

Agatha’s a bit temperamental in the mornings.

She gets in her moods so quickly that Penny swears that she gets a **_Dreadfully happy_ ** cast on her when she wakes up. Baz used that spell once, in our third year, and I was moody for a week. Being momentarily bipolar isn’t fun and even Penny tired of me.

Anyway, Agatha has these moods in the morning. When she sits down for breakfast, she acts snootily as if she’s above everyone. It’s not a secret that she kind of _is._ Her blonde hair is combed and put up nicely, and her eyes dart from pastry to pastry.

Penelope thinks there’s no point of Agatha sitting with them, if Agatha’s not going to eat. Agatha never eats breakfast, she usually just sits looking pretty. But I guess that’s how Agatha is, I can’t ask her to change it. (But if I wanted her to change her diet, I could use a **_Eat up! Eat up, my children!_** )

Baz enters the pavilion silently. He drifts over to his group of friends- he never seems to actually _walk_ \- and sits quietly. His dark eyes roll over to me, locking quickly, before snapping back to Niall. Niall glances over to me with disgust, before continuing whatever he was arguing over about.

“Simon.” Penny’s eyebrow is raised. “You’re not hungry?”

Agatha rolls her eyes. “Simon is always hungry.”

I bite into a scone. Watford always has the best food no matter what, but then again, my only comparison is to the orphanage. I would be _lucky_ to even get something from there.

Penny always worries about me whenever I come back to Watford. She worries that I wasn’t eating enough over the summer because I come back so skinny. On my first day back, I usually eat until I throw it back up again. Then the next day Penny has to watch me so I don’t eat too fast again.

Even when it’s not my first day back, I still eat like it’s my last meal- and for all I know it could be. The Humdrum has been very persistent lately, with his attacks coming from everywhere all at once. When I was in my second year, I could’ve sworn that Baz was the Humdrum.

“Nah,” I say, turning away from Baz’s table. “Lost my appetite.”

Penny sends a questioning glance, and I know I’ll be interrogated later. Agatha simply lets out a tiny, _hmph_ , and stares around the dining hall. There’s something on her mind, because she has this look in her eyes.

Penny clears her throat, and pushes her glasses up. She pulls out a neon yellow flyer. “There’s a spelling bee coming up.”

At Watford, Spelling Bee’s aren’t like the normal human ones. At Watford, a spelling bee is a competition that witches and mages spell and curse till there’s one left. Exciting until you lose your life (although according to the Mage, the chances of that happening is 1 to 50).

“Okay.” I say slowly, careful to conjugate my words.

Both Penny and Agatha look surprised. “You’re not interested, Simon?”

“No,” I shrug. “I’m failing Divination and Transfiguration. The Mage says I need to keep up if I’m the Chosen One.”

Penny blinks. “Oh, alright. If you do need help with Divination, I can help you with that.” She looks towards Agatha, to see if she was going to offer any help.

She doesn’t.

“Transfiguration shouldn’t be too hard either,” Penny looks annoyed. “But, I’m not at the top of my class.”

That’s right. Baz is. Baz seems to take delight in transforming things. He likes to turn into snakes and insects at night, just to scare me. I usually always know it’s him anyway, but he still does it.

“It’s fine.” I slather jelly on to another scone. “I’ll figure it out.”

Penny glances at the poster again. “Well, if you’re not doing it, I will.” She mutters something under her breath, and then passes the paper over.

“I got it memorized for now. Take it, in case you change your mind.” Penny gives a small smile, and then looks over to Agatha. “Unless you want it.”

Both me and Penny knows she doesn’t want it. Sometimes Agatha seems more human than me, despite being raised in a such a high family of mages and witches. She tends to avoid magic whenever she can and it’s always annoys Penny who’s _fascinated_ with magic.

Much like expected, Agatha gives a tiny frown. It doesn’t ruin her face in the slightest. “It seems ridiculous. Why would you waste all that magic for a simple trophy?”

“Not _just_ a trophy,” Penny looks oddly excited. “If you win this, you get a wish and get to go to the world championship to represent Watford in the _World Spelling Bee_. If you win _that_ you get to be known as Top Mageling _and_ you get three _additional_ wishes.”

“ _Wishes_? Isn’t that what fairies are for? Genies?” I questioned. The idea of getting three wishes is definitely appealing. Maybe I could get to see my mother…

“No,” Penny scoffs. “Not those pathetic wishes. I’m talking about _real_ wishes. As in wishing for the end of the world, wishing to return the dead etc. It’s supposedly bull, though.”

“Oh.” It’s quiet except for the sounds of the other tables chattering.

Agatha breaks the silence as easily as she rips apart her scone and offers it to me from across the table. “Do you want it?”

* * *

 

Baz sits on his bed, and I can tell he’s thinking. He’s thinking hard, something is most definitely stuck on his mind.

His hair is dripping wet due to his night shower. Baz has taken to night showering to avoid seeing me in the mornings. Not that I argued against it- it’s best that we don’t see each other when we don’t have to anyway.

I lay down in my bed, facing him. “Are you going to sleep soon?”

Baz scowls at me. “Does it matter? You don’t need me to fall asleep just for you to feel safe. If I wanted to hurt you, then I would’ve already, Snow.”

We both know he wouldn’t- _couldn’t_ \- because of the Roommates Anathema. Baz has never violated the Anathema before, even though I can tell he wants to somedays.

“Shut up.” I tell him, and flip over to face the wall. He grunts in a satisfied way, and I can hear him slip into his sheets.

I wait for his breathing to slow, before turning back to look at Baz. Baz likes to sleep on his back, and with his arms crossed like a dead person. Sometimes I think he only sleeps that way to creep me out, and it _works._  Baz actually looks... _dead_. It’s beyond unsettling.

And then in the corner of my eye, under his pillow, I see it peeking out. A neon yellow paper. I had seen that before. The same paper Agatha had shown me at breakfast.

Oh _hell_ no.

There was absolutely no way Baz could be even _thinking_ about doing the Spelling Bee. If he won…

I shiver, and turn over to face the wall.

I have _got_ to get into that Spelling Bee.


	2. AGATHA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to try to avoid any author's notes in this story.
> 
> Disclaimer: Do not own Carry On or any of it's characters.

**2//AGATHA**

Simon can be very… difficult at times.

I know he tries very hard. He’s always _trying_ , being persistent in that way he does. Sometimes it’s encouraging. Sometimes it’s… annoying.

“Try it again,” Penelope says, and I can tell that even she is slightly annoyed.

Simon frowns at the pencil, before focusing again. It was a simple trick, all he had to do was turn the pencil into a feather. It was actually one of the first things everyone does during their second year, which makes it even more surprising that Simon hasn’t learned how to do it.

Simon mumbles the chant again, and he stumbles over his words like he normally does when he’s around me. I know he has some sort of crush on me, but I’m not sure how deep it runs.

“ ** _Transform what is unborn!_ ** ” Simon grunts, and the pencil glows, before dimming. The pencils blue now, and I huff again. For the past hour, the only thing Simon has been able to do is make the pencil change color.

Penelope sighs. “Maybe we should take a break-” 

“No!” Simon interrupts, lightly blushing. “I can do it!”

Penelope grabs a hold of Simon’s hands, before he can do anything else. “Give it a rest, Simon. You’ve exhausted yourself out, anyway.” She plucks Simon’s wand out of his hands.

I don’t understand how Simon and Penelope work. I’m sure that if _I_ would’ve told him to stop, he would just work even harder to prove something to me. Penelope shouldn’t be that special to him.

“I’m thirsty.” Simon says, and he collapses on to his back. His clothes are bound to get grass stains, but he would probably just make Penelope use a **_Clean as a whistle_ ** on him to make them go away.

“I’ll get you something.” I stand up, happy for an escape. I didn’t mind hanging out with Simon, he’s a really nice guy. But sometimes he was just so… _draining_.

“You don’t have to,” Simon says, and I’m thankful that Simon didn’t have enough magic left in him to turn that into a spell. “I’ll be okay.”

“No, **_let me_**.” I tried to convince Simon, who then instantly nods. Penelope gives me a look, one filled with suspicion. As if she knows what I was planning on doing.

I rushed off towards the main building before either could argue again. Sighing, I push against the heavy doors, and glance towards the box. _The_ box.

There was no doubt it’s enchanted. It _has_ to be. Maybe there is some judging soul nearby, that gives a disapproving look as a person says the spell to add their name to the box.

I creep closer. The box was decorated in reflective paper, making it easy to catch mages’ attentions. An easy trap, a way to pull in a young mage’s curiosity.

“ ** _They call me Agatha_**.” I whispered into the tiny slit on top. There’s a tiny shock that goes through my body, conforming my entry into the Spelling Bee. Perfect.

I just hope that Baz approves.

* * *

 

Baz is a lot easier to find than I thought he would be.

He’s standing in the midst of trees, somewhere close to where I know Simon and Penelope were. Baz has his eyes closed, and he’s concentrating on something.His eyes open, however, when I come close.

“Agatha.” He acknowledges me, sending a flurry of feelings through me. I like the way Baz says my name.

I smile softly. “Basil.”

His face twitches at the name, before returning to it’s normal neutral position. “What do you want?”

I take another step closer. My hand trails against his arm, and he makes a move to pull it back. “I just wanted to- to say hi.”

Baz looks slightly amused. “Is that all?”

“No,” I admit. He knows the real reason why I’m here. I lean closer, standing on the tips of my toes just to be eye to eye with him. “I wanted to see you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, and press my lips against his. Baz’s lips are cold, not that I expected much else. Simon has this rubbish theory that Baz is a vampire- and why am I thinking of _Simon Snow_ as I’m kissing _Baz_?

Baz pulls away a few moments later. “ ** _There’s nothing to see here_**.” He disappears almost instantly.

I know he’s still here though.

He’s always here. Always watching with his dark eyes. Always nearby, keeping an eye on things. He’s always here.

I bite my bottom lip, and hold out my hand.

“ ** _Water in the well!_** ” A cup of water materializes after a second, and I sigh.

Simon Snow will be the death of me, if Baz didn’t kill me first.


	3. SIMON

**3//SIMON**  

Penny is great at divination. She’s at the top of our class, and when she talks about it she always knows what she’s talking about. 

At least she’s doesn’t rub it in the face of the people who are terrible at it. Unlike _some people._

“Snow is failing Transfiguration?” Baz smirks, as he begins tying his tie. I’m not sure how he can make it so perfect, I always have Penny or Agatha fix mine. “ _I_ have never failed a class. Much less, _transfiguration_.”

“Mind yours,” I tell him, as I gather my books. Penny is supposed to be coming in a matter of minutes, even though she isn’t supposed to go into a boys dorm. She always manages to get by though.

Baz laughs. “The Chosen One can’t make something change? Maybe you’re not what you think you are.”

“ _Shut up_.” I glare in his direction, gaining another laugh. There’s a knock on the door.

Penny.

Baz opens the door, and groans. “Snow, if you’re inviting your… _friends_ , then warn me ahead of time.”

Penny doesn’t look too pleased either. “I thought you said he would be gone by now.”

“I _thought_ he would be gone,” I glance towards Baz who folds his legs neatly on his bed. “We’ll just ignore him.” 

“Please,” Baz echoes, “Pretend I don’t exist."

Penelope looks like she wants to say something, but holds her tongue. Nothing is holding her back from saying anything, but it’s better to be safe when it comes to Baz. She turns to me.

“Do you want to do the pencil and feather thing again?”

I was exhausted of the pencil thing _years_ ago, but Penelope’s the teacher for now. “Sure.”

Penny pulls out a pencil, and puts in on my bed. “Try it again, and we’ll see what’s the problem this time.”

I nod, and stare at the pencil. Even Baz looks up in interest. “ ** _Transform what is unborn_**.”

The pencil turns red, and Baz laughs out loud. Penelope turns as red as the pencil in embarrassment, and I can feel my own cheeks and the tips of my ears turn hot.

“Marvelous job, Chosen One.” Baz says, and Penelope glares, before giving me a sympathetic look. 

“You’ll get it one day.” Penny reassures, and I wince.

“He’ll never get it, with your help.” Baz offers from his bed, and Penelope swings her head.

“It’s not like _you_ can do any better!” She exclaims, her eyes narrowing. Whenever Penny gets like this, I’ve learned to let her blow out her steam. “Have you _tried_ teaching someone else?”

“No,” Baz says, pushing himself off the bed. “But it’s wouldn’t be too hard teaching someone like _Snow_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frown, but the other two ignore me.

“Oh, really?” Penelope glares.

Baz’s hands rest on my shoulders. “Yes. Snow, turn that pencil into a feather. I can’t believe you can’t do a simple trick like this...”

“What?” comes both me and Penny’s confused answer.

“ ** _Do as I say_**.” Baz forces magic into the sentence, and I feel a sudden rush. It’s weird and electrifying. Baz’s magic feels warm, like a nice fire to cozy up to in the winter. 

A bright flash shines in the room, and I close my eyes.

“What the _fuck_ , Simon!” Penelope shrieks, and I blink open my eyes.

The room is covered in feathers. Every piece of furniture is made out of feathers, except for the my untouched bed, where I was sitting on. Baz snatches his hands away from my shoulders like he got shocked.

He rubs his wrists, giving me a strange look. “Simon.” 

Penelope frowns, touching her hair. Or what _should_ be her hair. Instead there are red feathers styled nicely into a braid. She looks nice with the feathers, in a rugged woodsy way. 

Baz’s hair is covered in black feathers too. They sweep across his forehead in it’s familiar style, fluttering lightly in a nonexistent breeze. He doesn’t look as mad as I thought he would be. A yellow feather falls from my head, dropping onto the bed.

“Basilton, you should help Simon instead.” Penny decides after a moment of silence. Her hands touch her feathery hair lightly, and her eyes are sharp through her glasses.

“Fine.” He says without skipping a beat. His eyebrow raises upward, matching Penny’s level look. 

“Wait-” I try to interfere.

“Fine.” Penny confirms. “You can help Simon with his Transfiguration.”

Baz nods. "Fine."

_What?_

* * *

 

Penny entered her name into the Spelling Bee.

She whispers her name in, and looks towards me. Her hair still hasn’t gotten back to normal, but in all honesty I don’t think she minds.

Agatha is to the side, nose sticking upward. When she had first seen Penny, she gasped and glared straight at me. She then spent the next hour or so, to try to fix it. Agatha only made it worse, changing Penny’s eyebrows to tiny feathers too.

“Aren't you going to add your name?” Penny asks in general, but it’s more to me than Agatha. Agatha would never be interested in this.

“I’m not sure.” I say. “I need more time.”

Penny hesitates. “Well, it stops accepting names next week. You have until then to decide.” 

“Yeah,” I say. “Baz is thinking of doing this.” 

“Really?” Agatha turns her head. Her eyes sparkle with interest. “He is?”

“Yeah,” I repeat but speak slower. “Baz is thinking of doing this.”

“Hmm,” Penny hums. She pulls a feather from her ponytail. “And are _you_ doing it, Agatha?”

Agatha doesn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Penny’s eyes flicker to the box. “You should do it Simon. Think about all the spells you’ll learn, and the quests.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Penny gives me a final look before turning away. “I think it’s dinnertime now. I have to go and do something first.”

“Alright,” I shrug. “See you then.”

“Yeah,” Penny mumbles. “See you.” 

* * *

 

Baz looks exhausted when I see him at night.

He’s paler than normal, and he looks _tired_.

“What’s wrong?” I pull on my night shirt. “Didn’t drink any blood lately?”

“Ha ha,” Baz rolls his eyes. “Haven’t drank blood in a few weeks.”

“Must _suck_.”

Baz gives me a look. “Snow, please stop with the ill jokes, before I use a _cat got your tongue_ on you.”

I stick out my tongue, and sit on my bed with my legs criss crossed. He’s sitting on his bed, so we’re facing each other. “No, but are you _okay_?”

“I think,” Baz scowls. “I just need to do something before I sleep.”

I frown. “What?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Baz looks over to me. “Do you want to work on your transfiguration?”

“Uh, _no_.” I say. “I don’t need your help.”

Baz rolled his eyes. He was the one to turn all the furniture back to normal, and fixed our hair. He didn’t fix Penny’s because he claimed it was too precious to change. We all know it's really because of humiliation, and to be honest, Penny doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

“If you say so,” He gestures toward me. “You should sleep. Classes tomorrow and all.”

“Vampires need to sleep too.” I reminded him, but slid into my bed nevertheless.

Baz looks at me like I grew another head. “Just go to bed, Snow.”

I sigh, and face the wall. After a moment of silence, I whispered into the air. “Night, Baz.”

Baz’s response comes after a few moments. “Good night, Simon.”


	4. PENELOPE

**4//PENELOPE**

It’s gross.

Very gross.

Watching Agatha is nauseating at times. I know she means well, but her reasons for doing anything are completely flawed.

“ ** _Stand your ground!_** ” Agatha yells and my feet remain untouched. She sighs, lowering her hand.

“You’re tired.” I tell her, but she ignores me. Her panting slows down, and she wipes her sweat with the back of her hand.

I like the fact that Agatha is practicing. She isn’t the most talented when it comes to spells, but she is rather good at enchanting charms and trinkets. However, it is a _Spelling_ Bee, meaning her main resort should be spells.

Agatha sits on the grass. The way she sits is dignified, like someone else is watching so she needs to look regal just in case. I can’t help but admire that about her.

“Maybe you should try expanding your spells. Instead of just strengthening them.” I suggest. Agatha perks up her head.

“I need to be stronger.”

I sigh. Agatha can be beyond stubborn at times, even more so than Simon. And Simon is… well, _Simon_. “You’re stronger if you know more. Think of all the attacks you can do.”

“I guess,” Agatha crosses her legs in front of her. She has long legs, and wears even longer knee socks. She says her human friends wear them with their uniforms.

“We can get to the library to search for some.” I say, hoping she would say yes. In all honesty, I don’t expect much out of the trip. Agatha is bound to be bored after a few books, and would probably drift away. Not that it really matters, it would be nice if _I_ could get a few more spells under my belt.

“Library?”

“Yeah. Watford _does_ have a library. An extensive one at that.” I explain, standing up. I offer a hand, and she gratefully accepts it.

Agatha brushes off her clothes, and gives me a tiny smile. “Lead the way.”

* * *

 

The library is exactly how I remembered it. The smell of old books hang in the air, and the lights are dimmed to a comfortable setting. It’s usually empty, as most didn’t even _know_ Watford had a library.

The librarian is rather… sour. Professor Tomkins is a rather timid man, with a long nose and coke bottle glasses. He always seems to be reading some explicit magazine, and doesn’t feel embarrassed enough to stop. He also likes screaming at younger magelings who ran around, thinking they knew best.

“These should be good for now,” I grunt, dropping the pile on one of the many deserted tables.

Agatha’s eyes are wide. “That’s a lot of spells.”

“Most of them you probably know,” I explain, opening one of them. “Here’s one of enchantments from Canada. Canadians are interesting.”

“Oh,” Agatha pulls the book to her, and scans it cautiously. “ ** _All she wants is gold and silver_ **.”

I blink when a golden necklace is appears on Agatha’s neck. She looks delighted and hums pleasantly, touching it with her fingers. “Oh.”

I roll my eyes (because only Agatha would be vain enough to look for something such as jewelry), and spend time skimming through books.

 **_Defying Gravity_ ** makes people levitate.

 **_Judge a book by it’s cover_ ** helps reveal disguises.

 **_Insult to Injury_ ** makes people feel more pain (but only works if they’re already injured).

 ** _Best thing since sliced bread_** gives someone ideas.

Nothing really eye popping. I look over to see Agatha completely engaged in her book. She mumbles words under her breath as she reads, and flips pages slowly.

Huh.

Most of the spells in the books I already knew. The only spells I didn’t know where in the restricted section. The restriction section is mostly books on the Dark Arts and is guarded with enchantments, ones that I’ve easily passed. There’s a few restricted books under my bed, heavily guarded. Except, it’s tricky getting in the restricted section by yourself.

I check my watch. Simon should be done with his classes by now, giving us enough to time to work on his divination skills. The ability to see into the future isn’t a particular type of skill that could be learned in a matter of days. Although, with the amount of energy and stamina that Simon has, I can’t be too sure.

“Agatha.”

It takes a minute for Agatha to respond. She looks slightly annoyed about me interrupting her, which sends a sense of pride to well inside me. “Yes?”

“Do you want to come back later?” I lean in closer. “Can you meet me here at midnight? I have a few books I need to get.”

“Why can’t you get them now?” Agatha raises an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “Because I _can’t_. Just, I’ll see you here, okay?”

Agatha looks longingly at her book. “Fine. As long as I can come back to this, once you’re done with-” She runs a hand through her hair, and roll her eyes. “- _whatever_ you’re about to do.”

“Thank you,” I smile gratefully. “You’re not bad, Agatha. Not bad at all.”

Agathe huffs, and flips a page. “Mhm.”

* * *

 

Simon isn’t too bad at divination. His hands tremble whenever he touches the crystal ball, like he’s about to break something priceless.

I don’t feel like telling him that it’s only worth about 6 pounds in London, which is _really_ cheap when it comes to mageling stuff. Watford first years break them constantly, making Watford one of the prime customers in the crystal ball market.

“Are we going to see the future soon?” At least Simon is excited.

I shake my head, touching the cards on the floor. “Not yet. You need to be able to read palms.”

Simon blinks, resting the crystal ball in the lap of his crossed legs. “Why would I need to do that?”

I sigh. “Were you paying attention to _any_ of your classes for the past few years?”

Simon shrugs causing another sigh to erupt from me. I reach across the floor, and grab his hand. It’s warm and sets a familiar burning shock that came with Simon’s magic.

I trace a line across his palm. “What line is this?”

“The… head line?” Simon’s face scrunches up.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you have one considering you hardly use your head though.” I point to another line. “And this?”

Simon sticks out his tongue, but guesses correctly. “Life line?”

It takes only a few more minutes to realize that Simon seems like he knows enough on palm reading. It’s relief, honestly, because I couldn’t possibly remember what some of the meanings were anyway. I’ve never really liked divination- the ability to see the future could be a bit controlling and terrifying.

I pick at one of the red feathers from my head. “Pick a card.”

Simon glances at it for barely a second, before flipping it to face me. “I got the Mage.”

I ignore the temptation to roll my eyes. Of course Simon would choose _that_ one. “It’s the _Magician_. Power and skill and such. You shouldn’t be too worried.”

“Oh.” Simon shuffles through the cards, blue eyes flying over each. “What does this one mean?”

He throws it on the floor by my feet. “It’s the Lovers. It has to do with having a committed relationship and a caring lover and such. Honestly, Simon, tarot cards are a waste.”

Simon looks through them again, tracing the pictures with his fingertips. “They look cool though.”

“They’re the modern witch versions. It’s for young witches, who have nothing to do but tell rubbish to people who’ll believe them.” I explain. “They might be true in some cases, but I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Then what _is_ true?” Simon asks, slipping the cards into his pocket.

I gesture to his lap, where the crystal ball is resting. “That and tea leaves. Tea leaves are more conventional and less, you know, _wizardly_.”

Simon looks excited. “Can we use this _now_?”

“No,” I stretch out my legs on the floor. “It’s completely draining, and you suck at it.”

Simon protests. “But I didn’t even try!”

“And yet, we’re not working on it.” I grunt, pushing my glasses back.

Oh no. Simon’s got the face on. He pushes his bottom lip out in a pout, and his eyes look like they’re about to tear up. It’s never really worked on me, but I don’t want to end up with him getting so frustrated, he tries working with the crystal ball himself. Messing with magic without knowing what you’re doing is _never_ good.

I sigh, and pull the ball towards me, ignoring the way Simon’s face lights up.

“It has to be dark for this to work,” I gesture towards the windows where sunlight was beaming in. Simon just reaches behind him, and pulls the sheets off his bed and throws it over us. In my hands, the ball glows an iridescent blue.

Simon shifts the blanket, so it’s more roomy for the both of us. He scoots closer to see what I’m doing.

“Now watch. You’re just going to watch.” I warn him.

Simon nods like an obedient dog, and I bit my tongue to keep from giggling.

“ _Hocus Pocus_.” I say in my most serious voice.

Simon eyes widen and stares at the ball, waiting for something to happen. After five minutes, he looks up at me. “What happened?”

I snort. “Nothing. You don’t use spells on magic balls.”

“What?”

I laugh. “Nothing happened. I was just messing with you.”

“Oh,” Simon sounds disappointed, before he comes to realization. “ _Hey!”_


	5. SIMON

**5//SIMON**

“Concentration is the most important thing to be able to do. You have to really concentrate for this to go as planned.” Penelope says.

“Alright.” The ball glows in her hands, and I _really_ want to touch it.

Penelope finally takes a deep breath, and sits up straighter. Her hands tighten around the ball. “Divination is to see the future, but with crystal balls you can do a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

Penny shrugs. “See the past. Talk to the dead. Lot’s of stuff. It’s just a lot harder.”

I shrug. I haven’t been paying much attention to our Divination classes, because our teacher is just _so_ boring. It’s a lot more interesting to look out at the courtyard and watch as student scurry around and goof off.

Penny rubs her hands over the ball. “You have to concentrate all your chakra into the ball, and if it gets warm, you’re doing it right.”

“All of your _what_?”

Penny pursues her lips, and the ball brightens. “Chakra. Energy, core, life source, magic- they’re all the same.”

“Oh, okay.” I say, nodding along. “Can I feel it?”

I know what Penny’s magic feels like. It’s thick and very pleasant, leaving a nice aftertaste of sage. I like it a lot. But when I grab the ball, it feels warm and the smell of sage and what feels like a thick fog is surrounding me. My muscles are hard to move, and everything feels so warm and nice. Underneath all the comfort, there’s a tiny _zap!_ , like electricity sparks.

I hand the ball back, and the feeling is gone. “What was that?”

Penelope hesitates and looks like she can’t find a word to describe it. She shrugs and simply says, “Me.”

“Oh,” I relax. “It _felt_ like you, I guess. Except for the sparking thing.”

“That’s _pure_ magic, Simon. It’s always there, but our essence comes out over it, making it seem more unique to ourselves.” Penny’s nose scrunches up. “That’s actually kind of what _your_ magic feels like. Just pure energy.”

I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, and by the look on Penny’s face, she doesn’t know either. There’s an unanimous agreement to drop the subject.

“ _So_ , are we going to do something?” I crack my knuckles together.

Penelope’s eyes light up, and she nods. “We’ll work on the future. It’s not too easy, and it’s hard to get a clear picture.”

I nod along, rubbing my hands together. Honestly, I’m just ready to see something cool. Magic is cool, and the future should be just as cool.

“It’s usually mostly flickers of images, smells, sounds, and emotion. It can be intense if you do it wrong, or do it _perfectly._ ” Penny shudders, and cradles the glass ball in her lap. “Do you want to know something? In the future, of course.”

“I don’t know.” I adjust the blanket over us. The blanket kind of smells like Baz, and it reminds me of something. “No wait, I have something.”

Penelope’s eyes close and she nods along like she’s sleeping. “Put one hand on the ball, and tell me.”

“Is Baz a vampire?” I say seriously.

Penelope snorts, but keeps her eyes closed. My cheeks feel hot and I sniff. It’s an actual question, that I would’ve liked to know for sure.

Then it happens.

The glass burns underneath my hand, and I can’t pull it away from it. There’s the familiar tingling feel of magic underneath the sudden onslaught of images.

I’m in a woods, and my knees sting and the smell of soot and ash is evident. The ground under my body is harsh, and the sky above is streaked with red and bright lights. Damp hair falls over my eyes, and my heart is thumping. In the distance there’s a desperate scream of a spell, and a loud crackle of electricity. And then there’s footsteps thumping, running closer to me.

“Come on, Snow.” I know that voice. It was frantic, and I was rolled onto my back. “ _Simon_.”

In front of me, is Baz. And he’s crying.

The image yanks itself away with a sharp pull, and I’m back with Penny under the blanket. Penny drops the ball like it’s radioactive, and gasps like she’s out of breath.

“I feel sick.” I groan, as the room starts to spin. “ _Fuck_.”

I open my mouth, and nearly choke as I puke my guts out.


	6. BAZ//MAGE//BAZ

**6//BAZ**

I try not to let Snow annoy me, but he’s not exactly the most pleasing person.

Agatha is much more sensible. A bit clingy, but sensible. She’s not someone you would have to save constantly from disasters that wouldn’t have happened if not for any idiotic mistake. Agatha is Agatha, and she’s perfect fine.

Simon is Simon, and he’s a little _too_ much. A little too much of _everything_ , really. It’s quite bothersome to think about.

Right now, I should be thinking about Agatha, as her soft hand is grasping mine.

But I can’t.

Simon’s always on my mind, as irritating as always. He’s like one of those tiny sprites, the ones who bug you until you start listening to them. Currently, he should be standing here, rather than laying in bed.

He had gotten sick at the beginning of the week. I had walked in to find Bunce cleaning up Snow’s vomit and the blond to have had fainted. I promptly turned on my heel, and walked away.

To think about it now, maybe I _should’ve_ stayed. At least to understand what had happened. For the past few days, Simon has been avoiding me, and his left hand was bandaged tightly. He’s been sleeping in, too.

Agatha’s hand tightens, and I focus back to the teacher who is levitating in the air. I’ve never had her, but Simon did and had always complained about the amount of work they did.

“The Spelling Bee is a challenging event, one filled with honor and courage,” She was saying, her long and sharp nose pointing towards everyone. “Those who entered should not feel pitiful if they do not win. To even _think_ of doing such a Spelling Bee, must come from the most heroic of mages.”

Oh. It’s one of these speeches. There’s not much listening that needs to be done at Watford.

Watford has three kinds of teachers. The ones who rambles about how _amazing_ it is to be in Watford or to even have a _lick_ of magic, the ones who didn’t seem to quite understand what they were talking about (but at times were very dependable), and the ones who felt as if all of the magelings at the school were peasants.

Agatha leans into whisper into my ear. “A bit long, don’t you think?”

“Of course.” I say back. Agatha smiles slightly.

Looking at Agatha’s smile is kind of painful. They’re pretty and dainty, and very familiar to the ones in paintings hung around my home. The familiarity to my mother is a very low blow.

It’s unsettling.

“-Bunce, Penelope-” The hooked nose teacher’s face was buried into a book.

“What’s she’s saying now?” I tilt my head towards Agatha.

Agatha combs through her blond hair with her fingers. “The people participating. There’s only a few, maybe fifteen.”

Fifteen is an easy number to beat. Just to gain a wish. I don’t particularly care for the trophy, or the chance to win in Nationals. One wish is all I need.

My ears perk up at the name the teacher says. “Snow?”

Agatha frowns, a quaint little thing. “I didn’t know Simon signed up. He told me he was failing some classes.”

“I know _that_ ,” I scowl. “I’m helping him with Transfiguration. I just didn’t know he was going to do _this_.”

Agatha makes a huffy sound. “You’re helping him?”

I ignore the question. Simon Snow can _not_ enter the Spelling Bee. He’s the Mage’s favorite, the _Chosen One_ , and his magic is overly powerful when used right. He might not know too much about magic, but he comes with unfair advantages. Besides, there’s no one who would want a _Pitch_ to win, so having _the_ Chosen One win would look a lot nicer to the council when you have someone like Simon.

And once again, Simon Snow will ruin my life, just with his existence.

It’s a shame he’s cute.

* * *

**MAGE**

 

Preparing for the Spelling Bee is hard. There are teachers to appoint, courses to create, and tasks to approve.

The Humdrum isn’t exactly making it easy either. The forest isn’t very safe, but it might be very good practice for Simon. I just need Simon to demonstrate what he can do.

With luck, Simon might show how much potential he really has.

Fingers crossed.

* * *

**BAZ**

 

“Get up.”

Simon groans from underneath his covers. “No.”

I clear my throat, and Simon sits up in a snap. “I told you to get up.”

Simon narrows his eyes at me. “Were you going to _spell_ me?”

“No,” I scowl. “We need to help you get ready for the Spelling Bee.”

Simon rubs his face with his hands, trying to wipe the sleep away. I stick out my hand, offering the cup of tea that I had gotten earlier for him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and his feet lightly hit the floor. Simon takes a long sip, and squints out the window. “I can’t believe you.”

There’s the undeniable smug smirk on my face, and I raise an eyebrow. “Can’t believe what, Snow?”

Simon’s hand flings out in the direction of the window. “It’s not even morning! What the hell?”

“Vampire,” I tap my mouth lightly. “Remember?”

Simon’s face scrunches up, and he looks like a puckered tomato. It has always and it will always be fun to mess around with Snow. His suspicion with my immortality is hilarious, and if only he knew how _accurate_ he actually is.

Simon takes a deep breath, and drinks more tea. I cross my legs at the ankles.

“We should help you with transforming other people. But we have to start off with the basics first, since you’re a little slow up there.”

“Up where?” Came Simon’s predictably confused response.

I tap my forehead. “Up here.”

Simon glares, and his tea must be finished because the mug is on the ground near the bed. “Whatever. I don’t see why I need your help, I’m not entering in the stupid thing, anyway.”

That’s an eyebrow raiser.

“But you have already entered. You’re name is on the list.” I remind him. Snow can’t possibly be _that_ daft to forget something like this. But then again... “You can’t get out.”

Simon’s head bobs up. “ _What?!_ What do you mean it’s _on the list?_ I never added my name!”

 _Definitely_ an eyebrow raiser. “Well, you must’ve, Snow. Only you can add your name, no one else.”

“I’ve been sick all week!” Simon throws his hands in the air dramatically. He’s not wearing an actual shirt, just a simple blue undershirt. He has a tiny bit of blond hair under his armpits. “I didn’t even _want_ to!”

“If you say so.” I dismiss the subject, and let out a tiny laugh. “You need to work on transforming other people, before yourself.”

“What’s so funny about that?” Simon looks at me suspiciously, causing another small laugh to come out. I reach under my bed, feeling around for the cage.

“Because I’m not homicidal enough to let you enchant others off the bat,” I tap the cage lightly. “You have to start out with something easier, and less _humane_.”

Simon’s horrified, and scoots backwards on his bed. “Is that a _snake?_ How long have you had that there!?”

I shrug, opening the cage. I had borrowed it from a friend earlier this morning, in exchange for money. “Not sure. A few days, months. Maybe even years.”

“Nuh uh.” Simon scoots so far on his bed, that his back hits the wall. “I’m not touching that.”

“Come on Snow. You can turn it into a fluffy bunny if you’ll like.” The snake curls from my hands around my neck and chest. It’s head hovers near my ear, and it hisses.

Oh. It can talk. The snake is also a she.

“Simon, it’s friendly, really it is.” I stand from my own bed, approaching Simon’s. My knee hits the edge of the bed, meaning I would have to crawl to get closer. “Her name is Agatha, if you can believe that. Funny, isn’t it Snow?”

“ _No!_ ” Simon eyes the snake cautiously. For Merlin’s sake, he didn’t even know what _type_ of snake she was! “I would rather talk to _my_ Agatha, rather than -than - _that!_ ”

“Charming, Snow. Very charming.” My head dips towards the snake’s hissing. “Agatha wants me to tell you that she’s not too amused with you.”

Actually, Agatha is just hungry, not that Simon needs to know.

Simon jumps from the bed, screaming ‘ _NONONONONONO!’_ and pulls open the door to run out the room. I frown, and place Agatha down. There’s no need to put her back in the cage, Simon isn’t coming back for a few hours, and Agatha lost all her venom _ages_ ago. Besides, she doesn’t feel interested in choking anyone for a while.

I collapse on my bed, feeling the very familiar tug of hunger. It’s been awhile since I’ve last eaten. Agatha curls up on my bed, next to me.

“Do you like mice? I can get you some dead mice.”

Agatha hisses, and I wonder if the human Agatha would like the snake.

“Mice are a bit bland to me,” I’m probably mad for talking to a snake. “But I’m a bit hungry too. It’s almost sunrise, but I think we can get to the Catacombs in time.”

Agatha slides her way around my arm, almost as clingy as the human Agatha.

“Excellent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~simon snow for hufflepuff~~
> 
>  
> 
> baz could probably talk to snakes and dragons just cause
> 
> the events have to do with nursery rhymes and such, but most (if not all) would probably originate from america. i'm terribly sorry as i can't handle the britishness too much.


	7. SIMON

**7//SIMON**

People congratulate me on entering the Spelling Bee.

Except I never _entered_.

Penelope is generally happy about all three of us doing it. “It’ll be like a great adventure!” she says between bites of roast beef.

“Exciting.” Agatha deadpans, but curiously enough, her head is stuck in a book. It’s strange to see Agatha reading a book. Thinking about it now, I don’t believe I’ve ever _seen_ Agatha read.

Penelope has been very tolerant of Agatha recently- as of more that normal. “Yes, it is! I finally have an excuse to make you all study with me.”

“But, like,” I bit into a roll. “What are we supposed to be doing?”

Penelope raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get the note about the first event?”

I swallow. “What note?”

Penny sighs, and peels open her bag. She shuffles through it, and it’s a big surprise how messy it is. “The note! It’s a clue on what the first event is. But you have to figure it out, of course. Nothing less to expect from the Coven.”

“It came under the door last night,” Agatha supplies, her eyes not looking up from her book. “You were supposed to grab it before it could disappear.”

I didn’t want to tell her that I fell asleep early when I was trying to look for the snake Agatha. The snake seems to had slithered away, because it wasn’t under Baz’s bed last night.

Poking a fork into mashed potatoes, I lean over to Agatha. “What are you reading?”

“Spells.” Agatha says, and closes the book around her finger. “Honestly, Simon, what _else_ would I be doing?”

I drop the fork. “I don’t _know_! I haven’t really seen you read, it’s more of a Penny thing to do.”

Agatha narrows her eyes. “Well maybe Penny has a lot more sense than you think!”

Okay, _that_ is weird. Agatha never really yells, never mind at me. And she doesn’t really defend Penny either, something about Penny being a strong woman who could do it herself (as if Penelope would need anyone to defend her in the first place). This was weird and strange.

At least Baz is normal- at least as normal as he usually is. Baz’s hands toys with an apple, twirling it around in his hands as he talks with his friends. Well not really talk, but _still_. Everything about Baz is a constant- a normal.

Normal is good.

There's an awkward silence, and even Penny is staring at Agatha with shock. Her mouth isn't open like mine is though.

“How has your lessons been, Simon?” Penny's eyes drift from Agatha to her plate.

I still stare at Agatha, who's running her hand through her pale hair. She flips a page. “Good, I guess. I'm not failing anything new.”

“And transfiguration?” Penny asks.

“Baz is stupid.”

“Well?”

“His snake is stupid too.”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “I figured that you might have such problems with Baz. He's an excellent student though.”

“He's absolutely _horrible_ , Pen.”

Agatha pipes up now. “He's not all that bad.”

“And he can't be all that worse than Trixie.” Penny slides in with a grimace. Penelope has never like having Trixie the Pixie as her roommate. According to Penny, Trixie is one of the most irritating people at Watford.

Trixie the Pixie is nothing compared to Baz the Vampire.

Penny lifts an eyebrow. “Did you say you didn’t enter?”

“I didn’t! I swear, I wasn’t even planning on doing it!” I reassured her, stabbing my fork into my food.

“Well no one else could have.” Penny mutters.”You’re the only one.”

I nod enthusiastically. “That’s what Baz said too.”

“Since when are you friends with Pitch?” Penny raises an eyebrow. “You were just talking about how horrid he is.”

I pause. “Yeah, but-”

“Simon, sometimes you are just too much.” Penny rolls her eyes. “Anyway, we should be figuring out this clue?”

“What clue?”

“ _Honestly_ , Simon, you need to pay attention. The clue for the Spelling Bee!” Penny throws her hands in the air, before pulling out a neon paper. Agatha closes her book and leans in, helping to create a circle of heads between us three.

Agatha mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a spell. When my head swings to her, she shrugs. “Don’t want others listening, do we?”

Penelope looks to be filled with pride, and she continues. “So there’s going to be five rounds. A clue for each, I guess. Maybe not, considering the _Mage_ is in charge of it.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask. The Mage is a good person, and while his decisions are really risque at times, he always seems to know what’s best for me.

Penny rolls her eyes, and even Agatha sighs. “Premal says that the Spelling Bee was dangerous and marvelous back when the Pitches were in charge. I’m sure it would’ve been even cooler this time around if Baz’s mum was here."

There’s a beat of silence, until Penny clears her throat again. “The different events are supposed to help focus on different aspects of magic. Every round, usually half of the people get out due to-” She hesitates. “Circumstances.”

“This time around, it’s three people out each time. Since there’s 16 people playing, three each round leaves one person left.” Agatha murmurs.

It’s not easily forgotten that Agatha, Penelope, and myself make three.

“As Agatha says, there _should_ be one person left. Unless the Mage decides to change something. I wouldn’t put it past him.” Penny peels open the paper.

 

> _Mary, Mary, quite contrary_
> 
> _How does your garden grow?_
> 
> _With silver bells,_
> 
> _And cockle shells,_
> 
> _And pretty maids all in a row_

 

I flip the paper over, and there’s nothing on the back. “Well, _that’s_ confusing.”

Penny rolls her eyes. “The second line is a spell. It makes your plants grow faster.”

“So this has to do with plants.” Agatha says. “Botany.”

“Herbology.” Penny corrects. “We took it in our third year. Simon killed everything he touched.”

I wince. “It wasn’t on _purpose!_ Plants just don’t like me.” Which is true enough- every project we had died when it was in my hands. At first I thought it was Baz screwing with me, until Penny explained that most of the plants fed on the caretaker's magic. Usually the more the better, but in my case they consumed so much they _died_.

Agatha’s repeating the clue under her breath over and over again. Penelope is jittering fingers nervously, as she’s in thought. Honestly, I have no idea what should be going  through my head. This whole magic stuff can be a bit confusing, and filling my head up with yet _another_ verse might make me go crazy.

Agatha snaps her fingers, brown eyes lighting up. “I’ve worked with silver bells before! On my estate, there’s a garden and in the spring they bloom on trees. Apparently, they’re native to America so one of our maids had taken care of it for years after importing!”

Penny’s brow furrows. “That’s great, but we’re in _Europe_ not America. I don’t think Micah would send me _flowers_ in time for the first event.”

Micah is her boyfriend from America, since fourth year when he was a foreign exchange student. He’s a really great mage, and seems to be really interested in Penelope. Penny doesn’t like when I’m around him, for fear of me starting to threaten him to keep her safe. I think she’s being unreasonable, considering Penny is one of the most strongest people I know, and there’s no one who could keep her safe besides herself.

“Is there a magic version of silver bells?” Normally whenever I ask if something is magical or not, Penelope and Agatha look at me like I’m crazy because they both forget that I wasn’t raised in a magical family.

However, the time around, Penny’s brow furrows even more. “I… think so. I believe they’re the unsettling little devils that scream like bells.”

Agatha frowns. “Mine don’t scream.”

“Well, at Watford,  _theirs_ scream. It’s obnoxiously loud and you can’t hear a thing for the next few hours.” Penny shudders.

“So we’re growing stuff, and then silver bells come into play?” I press.

Penny shakes her head. “No- we can’t take this stuff too literally. The Mage is tricky. Excruciatingly tricky.”

I don’t comment on the fact that so far, the Mage hasn’t hidden anything from me. He’s been very honest and open. Not at all tricky.

“ _Quite contrary_ \- maybe we’re doing the opposite? Perhaps we’re killing them?” Agatha supplies thoughtfully. One of her fingers curl around a string of hair. She looks very pretty when she does that- a little dumb too, but pretty.

“Perhaps.” Penny doesn’t deny or approve, but she nibbles on a cold piece of chicken. She waves her hand around and it steams like it’s just been cooked. She also absentmindedly does it to my and Agatha’s plates.

I eat some more mashed potatoes. “Are cockle shells flowers too?”

“Not that I know of.” Agatha says while Penny shrugs. “Silver bells are the only flowers in the verses.”

I slump. “So do we know anything?”

“Not really,” Penelope sighs, and stretches back, breaking the protective barrier around the three of us. “I’ll try to find a book on silver bells.”

The chatter of the room bangs back as the barrier Agatha placed is broken, and the sudden change makes my ears hurt. Both Penny and Agatha look unaffected, as they gather their stuff.

“We’ll see you later,” Penny reassures. “The Cloisters are having some kind of early cleaning now!”

The Cloisters is always in need of cleaning. Sometimes I think it’s the Coven’s way of saying the old ways needs to come back- back when girls were simply maids and housewives who cooked and cleaned. The Boy’s dorm never seems to need cleaning, considering how filthy it always got.

I push the rest of my food around. It seemed to get cold as soon as I was left alone.

* * *

 

Baz is meditating on his bed, and he looks like maybe he fell asleep.

When I jump on my bed, however, his eyes snap open. He gives me this side-eyed look that’s half-glare and half-indifference. He’s wearing his pajamas, the silk black ones, and it points out how pale he is even more.

“What’s wrong in Snow’s world today?” He rolls his eyes, and the way he clutches his pillow makes it seem like he actually cares and is completely open to a late night gab session. Which will never happen, of course.”

I sigh, mumbling into my sheets. “The Spelling Bee is so complicated.”

Baz shifts. “Then DQ in the first event. I doubt you know what to expect anyway.”

“DQ?”

“Disqualify.”

Now I roll my eyes. “You would just _love_ that.”

Baz gives me a bored expression, and he makes this weird clicking noise with his mouth. “Perhaps.”

I gather my pajamas to change in the bathroom. Calling out, I yell back at Baz, “Well, I don’t care!”

“Childish,” Baz comments when I walk back in, dirty uniform curled up in a ball. “I can’t imagine you winning anything. Maybe that’s what you were chosen for.”

“What?”

Baz smirks. “Chosen for failure.”

I throw my tie at him, and it falls flat onto his bed. He kicks it off distastefully, and runs a hand through his hair. He does it the same way Agatha does- in one open palm sliding back and then grabbing a handful to shake. The comparison makes me a bit queasy, and I groan in my pillow.

“We should work on your skills.” Baz says slowly, and I dart upward into a sitting position.

“We should _what?_ ”

Baz looks like he wants to flick my forehead (he knows than I hate it when he does that). “Work on your skills. I want a suitable rival during the events, and only Bunce can come close.”

“Penelope.”

“Same thing,” He snorts. “Come on my bed, and we’ll work on your skills.”

In all the years I’ve known him, Baz has never allowed me on his bed. He doesn’t allow _anyone_ on his bed really (although Penny sits there all the time). This could actually be a once in a lifetime opportunity. He looks slightly surprised when I scramble onto his bed.

“Exactly, how good are you at transfiguration? And is there anything else you’re struggling with? I expect a lot from you, but seriously, what _else_?”

I think that was offensive, but Baz likes to twist his words around. For all I know, it could’ve been a compliment but Baz _expects_ me to assume it’s an insult so that I could get defensive so that he can prove me wrong- maybe Penny is right, I might be a little too invested in Baz and what he says.

“I can’t speak.”

Baz glances at me. “What?”

I look down at my lap, where my hands are wrestling with each other. “It’s hard to pronounce words. I’ve gotten better at it, but speaking isn’t that good for me. Stuff doesn’t come out the way I want it to. I can’t speak good.”

“I can’t speak well,” Baz automatically corrects before wincing. “That’s alright. There are theories that even Merlin stumbled over his words, accidentally creating some of the most strongest spells.”

I nod before pausing. Baz was being… sympathetic? This was definitely weird, but not unwelcomed. Sympathy was probably the best that Baz could come close to when it came to caring for someone.

I swallow. “Let’s just do something okay?”

Baz nods, and rolls his hands. “First lesson. Ready for this Snow?”

“I can take whatever you throw at me.” I growl.

Baz smirks. “Good.”


End file.
